


Accepting the Truth

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [43]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Illnesses, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki has to accept that he’s been laid low by a Midgardian bug, but he’s got you to help him do it.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 6
Kudos: 200





	Accepting the Truth

There was a bug moving through the Tower, and it seemed no one could escape. 

You might have been the one to bring it in, because it hit you first. Headache, congestion, hacking cough, pressure in your face like your sinuses were trying to explode. It laid you low for a few days, and you mostly just hid in your room to try to keep from spreading it to anyone else. At night, when things were quiet, you would sneak out and to the kitchen, stocking up on what few snacks you could stomach while trying to limit your contact with others as much as you could. But, after about a week, things began to lessen. When you emerged, you discovered that both Bruce and Tony had been similarly hit and Nat, though she was good at hiding it, was starting to sniffle.

Feeling guilty, you’d looked up a recipe for extremely large batches of homemade chicken soup and immediately gone out to get supplies. You did what you could to keep Bruce, Tony, and Natasha well-fed and stocked up on medicine and tissues. Wanda and Clint went down next, and you did the same for them. It didn’t hit Steve or Bucky nearly as hard as it hit the others, but they did have a couple of days there where they clearly weren’t feeling their best. You kept making fresh pots of soup, tweaking the recipe each time you did. You were getting rather good at it.

When Thor went down, it shocked just about everyone. It had never once occurred to you that an Earthly germ could have any kind of impact on Asgardian immune systems. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to Thor, either, because he was easily the biggest baby of them all. In a way, it was almost sweet: the giant beefy alien warrior needed incredible amounts of sympathy and petting just because of an Earthly illness. Thankfully, most of the others had recovered enough that they were able to give him what he needed. Loki mostly grinned and crowed over how ridiculous Thor was being.

You’d never say it out loud, let alone tell Loki—or Thor!—but there were times when you kind of agreed with Loki.

At first, it was easy enough to blame Loki’s attitude on his brother’s dramatics. As the days went on, he got a little snippier, a little shorter, even with you. It had long been established that, of all the inhabitants of the Tower, he had a pretty big soft spot for you. Before the plague had descended upon you all, you’d actually spent quite a bit of time together, and often smiled at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. But his temper grew a little bit shorter, and he started to snap at you. Each time he did, his eyes widened a bit and he looked at you like he wanted to apologize, but you understood. Things were difficult. Thor was...a little difficult, and he spent a lot of time in the common areas in hopes of seeking out connections. For a day or two, you thought maybe Loki was just thrown out-of-whack by how different Thor was when he was ill.

But then you noticed how pale Loki was one morning. Paler than usual, obviously. You caught yourself staring at him—studying him, rather—to try to figure out if it was all in your head. When he saw you looking, his face remained tense, and did not relax into that secret smile he often gave you. You wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he only shook his head at you and fled.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the day. He didn’t come to dinner. Fearing the worst, you’d dished out some of your latest batch of soup, heated it up, and carried it to his room. After a few moments, he’d opened it and peered out at you. 

“What is it?” 

It could still all just be in your head, but he sounded a bit odd. His voice didn’t quite have that awful nasal quality that you always got when you were sick, but he still didn’t sound like himself. You’d held the bowl out to him with a smile.

“I thought you might be hungry?”

He just shook his head again and held up one hand as though to ward you off. “I don’t need that.” 

You laughed despite yourself. “What, food? Of course you do. Have you eaten _anything_ today?”

His face went dark. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine. Go away.”

And then he’d shut the door in your face.

You had to admit that it stung a bit. That kind of thing wasn’t entirely out of character for Loki, but it _was_ strange for him to do it to you. You’d stood there for a moment or two, first feeling shocked about it, and then feeling stupid for feeling shocked. He was sweet, and he was relatively patient with you, but he was still Loki. You looked down at the bowl you still held, and then stooped to place it to one side of his doorway. Just in case?

In the morning, the soup was still there, ice cold and looking rather...disgusting. You picked it up without stopping to knock on his door and washed out the bowl in the kitchen. 

Thor recovered, though it seemed a lot like perhaps he was milking the last few dredges of the disease for all the extra love he was getting. But Loki didn’t show his face for the next few days. He was stealthy, but you often found that you could sense when he was nearby, lurking or else sitting quietly in the next room. But you didn’t feel him anywhere. You even caught yourself lying awake at night, straining your ears to listen for his catlike footsteps, but there was nothing. You wanted to ask Thor to check on him, but you didn’t. Whatever was wrong with him, whether it was that bug or something in his mind, it was clear that he didn’t want anyone to know about it. Sometimes you’d press your ear against his door just to listen for any signs of life. Often you heard him coughing inside. 

So he _was_ sick, then, and he wanted to hide it from the others. You couldn’t blame him. After the way he’d made fun of Thor, perhaps he was afraid that the others would heap that ridicule back upon him. Maybe they would. But your heart broke for him, a little, that he’d had to watch his brother get so much attention and love but then felt he had to hide himself away. 

You made up a tray. You skipped the bowl of soup this time—it was pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in that—but piled it high with snacks you knew you’d seen him eating before. Anything was better than nothing, even if it was mostly sweets. You retrieved the box of cold medicine and a couple of bottles of water and then, on a whim, made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on your whole-grain bread. PB&J wouldn’t go quite as nasty as that soup had if Loki ignored it for a few hours, and the bread made you feel less like you were just offering him junk? You scrawled a quick note on a piece of paper— _This is_ not _a get well soon card, but I miss you and I hope you’re able to come out of your room soon._

Then, doing your best to avoid being seen by the others, you’d taken it to his room. Briefly, you considered leaving it next to his door, the way you had with the soup, but that seemed like a bad idea. It’d be harder for the others to miss this giant tray than that bowl, and probably he wasn’t opening his door to look into the hallway anyway. Feeling a lot like an intruder, you’d tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Okay, so what you’d do, then, is put the tray just inside his door and then close it quietly again and leave. That way, he could take what he wanted from the tray, if he wanted anything, without feeling like anyone was watching. You drew in a slow breath to try to drive off the strange guilt you felt at opening his door in the first place and ducked down to slide the tray inside.

“Get out!” Loki’s voice sounded inhuman: foggy and raspy and...frightened. You got the sense that he was swooping down at you and cringed, trying to make yourself smaller.

“I’m sorry!” You reached up to defend yourself from his fear. “I thought you were asleep! I didn’t want to intrude, but you haven’t—” Something caught your attention. He was standing there, but rather than looking large and threatening, he looked...off balance? His forehead creased and he stumbled a bit, like he was trying to find the strength to stand but couldn’t. You rose to your feet just as he started to fall, and braced him with your body. “Loki, stay with me.”

He was muttering something but, you were pleased to note, did not try to push you away. You pulled his arm around your shoulder and slipped your own around his waist so you could help him over to his bed. He was warm. Warmer than usual. Feverish, maybe? He let you sit him down and only growled at you when you touched his forehead; he still didn’t push you away.

“You’re burning up,” you said softly. Your heart broke for him all over again. He must have been miserable in here. 

“I’m fine.” He held his head in his hands. You wanted to throw your arms around him, but you held back. That was clearly not what he wanted right now.

“I know that you’re not.” You did, however, let yourself reach up to comb your fingers through his hair. He flinched a little, but didn’t pull away. You didn’t press him to speak, only did your best to ease the knots and tangles out of his hair. It wasn’t hard to imagine him tossing and turning in bed, trying to sleep even as the fever and that incessant tickling in his chest kept him awake. Even once his hair was silken again, you didn’t stop touching it. He could be so soft, sometimes. You treasured that. Finally, you swallowed hard. “I won’t tell Thor that you’re sick, if you’ll try to eat something.”

“I’m _not_ sick.” There was a vehemence to his words that didn’t quite match the raspy tone of his voice. He coughed a few times, further weakening his argument. You laughed and patted his shoulder gently.

“Well, you’re not _well_ , either. Will you at least try?” When he didn’t try to protest again, you got up to retrieve the tray and brought it over to him. “See? I only brought things I know you like. Er...and a sandwich, because I felt like I had to. It’s peanut butter and jelly, so it’s basically like candy, but the bread is kind of nutritious, at least.” You hated how you rambled, but you just really wanted him to eat something.

He stared at the tray for entirely too long, but then he finally reached out to pick up half of the sandwich. You tried not to watch as he brought it to his mouth to take a bite, and then you tried to ignore the surge of relief you felt when he did. Granted, you knew absolutely nothing about Asgardian biology, but if they could be taken down by this bug, maybe there were aspects about them that were similar to humans? And if he could eat, his body could fight back.

When he finished the first half, he picked up the second. You didn’t hold back your smile, but you did keep your eyes averted. As he ate, he picked up your note, turning it over in his hand. Your cheeks burned. Oops. You hadn’t intended to be sitting right here as he read it. He finished the sandwich and gestured at you with the note.

“You miss me?” You could hear the traces of a smirk in his voice, but you still didn’t look up to confirm. The fact that he’d phrased it like a question was what really stuck out for you. Like he hadn’t realized that could be true.

“Of course.” You’d treat his question as something real instead of an attempt to start teasing you. “I like you. I like when you’re around. You didn’t know that?” Desperate for something else to do, you picked up the box of medicine and started to open it. He still sounded congested. “I know you’re very strong and very not-sick, but if your head hurts like mine did, then this stuff should help.” You didn’t wait for a response before you popped one pill out of the sheet and held it out to him. After yet another long hesitation, he did take it from you and open one of the bottles of water. When he’d taken the pill and drained half the water, he re-capped it, and then moved the tray onto the floor. That felt like a dismissal, so you started to stand up.

“I like when you’re around.” He was quiet, but the words were unmistakable. “Will you stay a while?”

And how could you refuse?


End file.
